


No Two Snowflakes

by BackslashEcho



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Twins, Aromantic Character(s), Gen, Intrigue, Secret Identity, Secret Organizations, Weiss Schnee has a twin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-02
Updated: 2018-06-22
Packaged: 2018-08-28 15:20:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8451526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BackslashEcho/pseuds/BackslashEcho
Summary: Despite what you might see in pop culture, twins aren't mirror-images of each other. They think differently, see the world differently, and follow different paths. Weiss and Eisig Schnee are no exception. They'll make new friends, grow stronger, and find their own places in the world...and each with their own flair. After all, no two snowflakes are exactly alike. [Twin AU]





	1. Not Exactly Alike

_“Our Atlas Academy contact accepted the transcript.”_

“Good, that’ll be best for him. And the airship?”

_“Schnee’s right on schedule, boss.”_

“Excellent. Make sure no one interferes; I’ll handle this personally. If all goes as expected, we’ll be operating out of Vale before the week is out. You have command to oversee the rest of the move; I’m going dark now.”

A long black coat flapped in the early Spring Atlas morning, white wings stenciled on the shoulders glinting in the light, as the lean figure in sunglasses strolled down an alleyway, head tilted back toward the sky. Sharp, ice-blue eyes behind mirrored sunglasses tracked an airship across the sky as it headed for the landing port on the far side of the city. Small, round bear’s ears twitched amid salt-white hair. Perfect. He set down the small suitcase he was carrying.

The young man powered down his Scroll, which had a broken camera and a rather prominent attachment to the mouthpiece, and slipped it into an inside pocket of the jacket, along with the sunglasses. He glanced around to ensure no one was in sight, before also carefully detaching the animalian ears, which followed the Scroll and sunglasses. Then he shrugged the coat off, folding it expertly, and packed it away into the suitcase, where there had been just enough space for it. Rising, he tossed his hair, the short braid that had been hidden under the turned-up collar of his coat now swinging freely. He smoothed the front of his scarlet dress shirt, and tugged down the snowy vest that covered it. He wore no tie, the top button of the shirt opened casually to expose sharply-defined collarbones.

Picking up the suitcase once more, he strolled out of the alley and onto a much larger, but deserted street. It was technically a backroad, but only because no one was allowed to have their property face it, save for the mansion it led up to. The backs of all the houses and buildings had been graffitied and covered up almost weekly up until a year ago, when the alley he had just exited had been tagged with the sign of two white wings. Immediately, the vandalism had stopped, and while the rest of the street art had been whitewashed, the wings remained prominently unhidden.

Turning toward the enormous estate, the young man sighed and moved toward the closed guard gate. As he reached it, the man in the booth called out to him. He smiled, drew a second Scroll from the pocket of his white trousers, and swiped it across the identification terminal. The gate swung open at once, and the guard stood immediately to attention. He waved, still smiling, and passed through.

As the gate shut automatically behind him, he opened the new Scroll, scrolling to a contact he hadn’t so much as looked at in several years. 

He dialed.

After a moment’s transfer, the image flickered to life, revealing a portly, balding man with brown hair and a large moustache. “Mmyessir?” he said, deferentially.

“Hello, Klein.”

The man on the Scroll’s eyes widened in shock, their plain brown changing suddenly to a bright yellow. “Why, Master Eisig, this is a pleasant surprise!”

“The pleasure is mine, Klein, I assure you,” Eisig replied warmly. “I’ve come by for what I expect will end up being a _very_ brief visit, but I wanted to see my sister when she arrived today. And I hope it’s not too presumptive an imposition to ask for a bite to eat?”

Klein’s eyes turned a bright blue, not unlike Eisig’s own, and the manservant stifled a sneeze. “Not at all! Please, come to the kitchenside entrance; I shall have some hors d'oeuvres for you. Mistress Weiss is expected home within the hour, so perhaps we can await her together?”

“I would be delighted, Klein.” Eisig smiled genuinely again, shutting the Scroll and stepping off the walk to the front door in favor of a garden path. He passed the entrance to the hedge maze, and followed the trail through the statue garden, paying no mind to the sculptures and topiaries in the shapes of Grimm and mythical creatures. Next was the rose garden, where Madam Schnee held court during cocktail parties on Summer evenings, and where she spent her time drinking when there were no appearances to maintain. Today, it was empty.

Continuing around the corner, Eisig came upon the kitchen garden, where the staff grew herbs and fresh produce. He inclined his head politely, offering another smile to the gardener who was kneeling between the sage and thyme. The smile widened when he looked up at the kitchen door to find Klein waiting and beaming at him, eyes yellow once more.

“Master Eisig, it is wonderful to have you home.” Despite his warm words, Klein followed this with a formal bow, until Eisig caught his shoulder and lifted him again.

“No airs and pretenses, Klein,” Eisig requested. “No doubt I’ll have my fill of that when I meet with your employer.” He embraced the manservant, who was plainly shocked, but recovered quickly and returned the brief hug.

“Well, Master Eisig, come in; do come in.” Klein swept the door open and bustled in behind him. He paused, waiting to take the suitcase, but Eisig simply shook his head and gestured the manservant to lead on. Klein nodded, moving at once to a side table to pick up a tray of coffee and canapés, leading the way to a small sitting room. Eisig took a seat where he could see both doorways, but not easily be noticed by anyone passing by outside them, and Klein set the tray down smoothly.

“Your mother is away on a trip with Master Whitley, I’m afraid,” he said, pouring coffee into an elegant mug. “Miss Weiss will be most disappointed, I’m afraid. Miss Winter is of course tied up in her duties. It is only your father at home.”

“Cream, no sugar, please,” Eisig put in as Klein paused over the coffee. “And that is about what I expected. How is my dear baby brother? Still enjoying the piano and being the prince of the house?”

Klein nodded slowly, though at the last his eyes flashed red for an instant. He set the coffee down, and promptly stifled a sneeze as they returned to blue once more. “Many things remain the same, and as many do not, sir,” he said delicately. “Some things, you may find the same as you left them, while others, you may find you do not recognize.”

“I see. Thank you, Klein,” Eisig replied, meaning for both the coffee and the advice.

“Of course, sir. Now, no doubt your father will be informed of your arrival shortly, so…” He trailed off, as the intercom by the door that led to the main hallways jingled, the particular melody indicating that the call was for Klein.

“Speak of the Beowolf and it growls at the door,” Eisig chuckled. He swallowed one last canapé as Klein answered the intercom, and rose smoothly when the manservant turned. Eisig picked up his coffee and suitcase and, again, gestured Klein to lead, as though he could forget the way to Jacques Schnee’s office.

* * *

“I’m not actually asking, you understand.” Eisig’s coffee was finished, his portion of the canapés eaten, and his voice was as icy now as his name, the warmth he had shown the help nowhere in evidence. “This is a courtesy, because I wanted to see _my twin sister_ for the first time in _years_. In exchange, I am making you aware of my intent. I _will_ be attending Beacon Academy in Vale next month when term begins. You simply have the choice to acknowledge this or ignore it; you may flaunt that you are ‘sending’ your eldest son to the most prestigious Hunting School in the world ‘out of the goodness of your heart, and your wish of the best for all Remnant’s citizens’, or you can formally disown me and I will go myself.”

“You expect me to bend before coercion?” Jacques Schnee asked, just as coldly. His own coffee and food were untouched.

“No, I expect you to make the intelligent decision,” Eisig shot back. “You gain nothing by disowning me, where you stand to earn a great deal of public acclaim by one of your children attending a Hunting School. Hunters are considered guardians, one step shy of superheroes, by the general populace. The choice of an international school over the domestic one will indicate your own open mind, a willingness to look past the petty border disputes of the past in favor of a grander goal of international cooperation—just like the Vytal Tournament for which you willingly provide the Dust every time it is held, because the _appearance_ of doing such a thing means something to the people that we both know you otherwise could not care less about.”

Eisig paused, eyes on Jacques’ own narrowed ones. “If you’re somehow under the impression this is some gambit for the Company, you should understand by now that I don’t want it. I have brought a signed statement to that effect.” He produced an unsealed envelope from inside his vest, flicking it across the table. “I’m quite sure your legacy is too great to throw away on ‘ingrates’. The Company can go to Weiss; Creator knows why she still wants it.”

Jacques studied the document carefully, but it was precisely what Eisig had claimed, and now that he was seventeen, his signature on it was binding. Short of Jacques himself declaring it, Eisig would never inherit the Company.

“For how little you seem to care for our legacy and the Company, you are certainly keen to spend its money,” Jacques pointed out, setting the document aside. Your trust account has remained funded during your…absence…and there have been multiple, regular withdrawals.”

“That money went to charity and privately-funded public works,” Eisig said dismissively. “Anything I wished for myself, I purchased with funds from a job, like everyone else in the world without the misfortune of being born rich. Nonetheless, that trust account is in my name and was exclusively under my control. You may cut it off at your leisure, but what I do with the funds you granted to it is my own concern. If you continue it, I will provide receipts for any school-related expenses. Alternatively, end the funding and handle the school finances personally. Or, as I offered before, complete the disinheritance and we can part ways; you will owe me nothing.”

Before Jacques could reply, there was a genteel knock at the office door, and Klein’s voice called out, “Miss Weiss, to see you, sir.”

“Send her in, Klein,” Jacques replied. He returned his gaze to Eisig, but his son was watching the door himself, anticipation just visible in the slight rise of his brow. He had, after all, not seen his own twin in over three years.

The knob turned, and Weiss hesitantly entered, wearing what the press stories he’d seen indicated was her usual outfit—a white dress, and red-lined white bolero. She also, he noted, wore her rapier Myrtenaster at her hip. He wondered idly why she had it.

“Father,” Weiss greeted Jacques respectfully, dipping her head and half-curtseying. “Brother.” She smiled at him, and he returned it; the first smile to cross his face since he had entered the room. 

“Weiss.” Jacques almost sounded more like a general demanding a soldier’s report than a father greeting his daughter, but then, Eisig had heard General Ironwood request debriefings with more warmth. He gestured her to the seat beside her brother, and Eisig let his fingers brush against hers for the briefest moment. “I trust you acquitted yourself admirably?”

“Finishing school was barely a challenge, Father,” Weiss almost managed the detached confidence that their childhood tutors had always demanded. Almost.

“As it should be, for a Schnee,” Jacques declared, without a word of praise or congratulations. “I have considered your next steps carefully, and-”

“Actually, Father…” Her calm barely survived interrupting him, but she straightened her back and soldiered on. “Over the final term, I came to the conclusion that, in order to best run the Company, I should see as much of the world as I can, in the capacity of a protector and a leader. I… I wish to travel to Vale, attend Beacon Academy, and make a career as an independent Huntress, to help show that a Schnee is a guardian of the planet. Then, when the time comes, I will lead the company with the confidence of not only our long-time investors, but the support of the people of the rest of the world.”

It was a good speech, Eisig thought. Firm, determined, well-considered…and unwittingly delivered at exactly the wrong time.

Jacques’ face darkened, and Weiss leaned back in her chair involuntarily. His visage was thunderous as he glared at Eisig, though his voice was, as ever, devoid of any emotion. “This was your plan? Some gambit to surrender your inheritance but then steal away the heiress?”

Eisig’s eyes narrowed. He could sense Weiss staring at him too, but he’d have to explain to her later. “This is no _conspiracy_. I have not seen nor spoken to Weiss in more than three years, by your own design, _as you well know_. I can hardly be faulted for my sister being intelligent enough to see the same facts as I, and draw the same conclusions.” Despite the sharpness of his words, his voice was equally cold. “We are as clever as you raised us to be. And we have both expressed our intent. And so we both await your reply.”

There was a long silence, as the two men continued to glare at each other, Weiss looking nervously between them both.

“Some days I think you really aren’t my son at all,” Jacques said at last.

Eisig clicked his tongue softly. “Some days _I_ think that would be easier on us both. But you’ve never been one to do things the easy way, have you? And I suppose in _that_ respect, I take after you rather fiercely.”

Jacques stared impassively at him for another moment, showing about as much emotion as Eisig was himself. Then, still tonelessly, he said, “Go.”

Eisig rose, and swept a deep, ironic bow. “By your leave,” he drawled, as Weiss, too, scrambled to her feet.

He took Weiss’ arm and pulled her after him out of the room, picking up his suitcase as he left and heading back out of the East wing at a quick pace. Years may have passed, but he remembered well how to navigate the house, and they soon reached the foyer. As they entered, Eisig pressed the intercom to summon Klein. “Pack your weapon away,” he said shortly. “We’re gone in five minutes.”

“W-what do you mean?” She stammered, even as she moved to the cart of her own luggage to pull out Myrtenaster’s case.

“We’re both going to Beacon,” Eisig explained in a clipped voice as Klein appeared, and Weiss smoothly broke Myrtenaster down and packed the Dust away. “Jacques is displeased, and I don’t particularly care. We’re getting the hell out of this house. I have a friend who will put us up for the next week, until term starts.” Seeing she had finished, he snapped the weapon’s carrying case shut and picked up her largest suitcase. “We’re probably not going to see much in the way of opportunity to return, so I hope you’re packed for all Valic seasons.”

“Anything that Miss Schnee is missing, I will be delighted to send along,” Klein put in, his eyes now brown and his voice businesslike. “In the meantime, I shall fetch a driver.”

“We’re not coming back?” Weiss asked in a small voice as Klein left.

Eisig heaved a sigh and looked over at her. She had picked up two more suitcases, but looked utterly lost. “Wei,” he said softly, the childhood nickname that he only used when they were alone. She looked up, and he could see her eyes swimming with tears. “I expect you were never told, but I ran away from home three years ago. I would never have come back here, even this once, if it weren’t for you.” 

She seemed to shrink in on herself, so he pressed on. “I mean that you are the only thing I value enough to come back here _for_.” He gestured around. “All this silk and gilt doesn’t mean happiness. Just before you arrived, I had announced my plans to leave Atlas and train to become a Huntsman at Beacon. I’d be delighted do it with you around. If _you_ want to come back here, you can arrange to visit, and I’ll come with you. If _you_ still want to take over the Company, I will do everything I can to smooth your way. But you need to understand that apart from you, I _hate this place_.”

She let out a shuddering breath and moved closer to him. “I know you do, Sig.” Her own private name for him. “I just…I want to go back…I want Father to smile again sometimes, and recognize when you’ve done well, and…”

Eisig, for his part, set down the suitcases in his hands and moved over to her, embracing her in a hug for the first time in years. There were two loud thuds as she dropped her own suitcases and flung her arms around him. She sniffed loudly, but didn’t cry, and he didn’t say anything. They remained like that until Klein returned and quietly announced that the car was ready. Between the three of them, they managed to pack Weiss’ five bags into the back of the car with Eisig’s own, and then it was time to go.

“Good luck to you both, Miss Schnee, Master Schnee. It was lovely to see you both,” Klein sniffed, his eyes now a deep azure. “I don’t know where you’re off to presently, but I know you’ll both do yourselves proud as Hunters.”

Eisig grinned, more at ease outside the mansion than he had ever been within it. “We’re going to be staying with a friend of mine in the city, Huginn, until we can catch a transport to Vale. You’re a good man, Klein. And alas, you’re a loyal one, or I’d do my best to hire you away. But I suppose I’d better leave you with the family for the rest of their sake; just take care of yourself, old man.”

Weiss was much more stiff and awkward, but no less heartfelt. “I, too, wish you nothing but the best, Klein. You’ve…always been kind to me.”

Klein waved away their praise, smiling slightly, before chivvying them into the car. Eisig gave the driver an address on the far side of Atlas, and they were off.

* * *

Huginn wasn’t home.

That wasn’t unusual, and it wasn’t a problem, since Eisig’s Scroll was keyed in to be able to open the door to the small house. He strolled in confidently, flicking the lights on one by one, revealing a plainly-furnished but cozy home. He had stayed here on occasion during the past several, whenever Huginn happened to be in town, and he made a point of making sure the place was kept clean, even though it had been over a year since he had last seen his friend.

“Whose house is this?” Weiss wondered, examining the cheaply-made but sturdy furniture.

“Huginn. He’s a Huntsman from Vale. I met him a few years ago. You meet a lot of interesting people around town, actually; that’s where I met folks like the Coals, who gave me a job and a place to stay, and Nanook Eisbar, who ate dinner with me and told me about his organization.”

“You met Eisbar?” Weiss asked, shocked. Eisig raised a questioning eyebrow at her reaction. “Even up at boarding school we’ve heard of the White Wing. There are lots of their armbands, being worn by students and even faculty. I thought they were a subdivision of the White Fang, but there are humans wearing those bands too!”

Eisig grinned at her. He flipped his suitcase over and opened the second compartment, pulling out a black armband with a pair of white wings stenciled on it. Weiss gasped. 

“The White Wing is a very different organization,” he said, twirling the armband on his finger. “I hear they’ve even taken in those who wanted to escape what the White Fang is becoming. I met the Ice Bear right before that big ‘press conference’ where he announced that it wasn’t a gang, but a movement. And I’ve talked with lots of other people around the city who know him, or at least, have met him, and no matter how suspicious they started out, everybody I talk to says that the White Wing really is what they claim to be—a movement for real equality. That’s why there are humans joining too.”

He tossed the armband away, and stretched. “So, you’re going to join me at Beacon, huh, sis? So you won’t mind a little spar?” He reached into the suitcase again and brought out his own weapon, Salzgletscher, in its collapsed form.

“Hmph, you’d better take me seriously,” Weiss warned, though her own lips were twitching as she unpacked Myrtenaster once more.

“C’mon, Huginn has a training room in the basement.”

“Underground?” Weiss asked worriedly.

“Just don’t go wild with Dust and we’ll be fine,” he assured her. “This room is tough. We’ll spar for a bit and then eat and you can ask me whatever you want.”

* * *

Two hours later, Eisig was breathing heavily and leaning on Salzgletscher’s expanded form, a naginata. He had pushed hard, putting both Weiss and himself through their paces and getting to know his sister’s fighting style. He knew she was a fencer, but three years changed the way a person fought, and he himself had changed weapons since they last sparred. 

Weiss was a very intelligent, technical fighter; she relied on speed and precise footwork, as well as the flexibility of the Schnee family Semblance to give her an advantage. If their battle had included Dust, no doubt her performance would have been even more impressive.

Unfortunately, Eisig had the same advantages with his Semblance, and the naginata’s longer reach, as well as the fact that both ends of it could be used in a fight, made up for its somewhat slower speed. More than that, though, Eisig could simply outlast her—Weiss’ technical training had been excellent, what needed work was her endurance. As it was, she had begun tiring only halfway through the session, and over the following hour, Eisig had pressed his advantage further and further.

Finally, he had called a halt, propping himself up with his weapon, and Weiss had all but collapsed to her knees on the thankfully soft floor. She was red in the face, panting, and drenched in sweat. Pushing himself up, Eisig grabbed two water bottles and came to sit beside her. He offered her one, and she raised her hand for it.

“Sig…I’m shaking.” 

It was true. By the end of the spar, Weiss’ hands were trembling so badly that Myrtenaster’s tip was wavering by several inches, and even now she could barely hold the bottle. He opened it for her, and helped her to take a drink. “Take a drink to rinse out your mouth, then take small sips, and work on getting your breathing under control. 

“This is normal, Wei,” he assured her, making his voice as soft and soothing as possible. “It’s the post-battle comedown; all the adrenaline is still pumping around your system and it takes time to wear off.”

“How…are you…making this look so easy?” she panted, following his instructions and talking between mouthfuls. “I…had Combat training and fencing classes too!”

“I started practicing much harder than this, a few years ago,” he said, shrugging. It wasn’t that he was more skilled than her by any significant margin, just able to keep going longer.

“So… You mean the moment Father separated us, don’t you?” 

Eisig hummed, not answering directly. “Wei, I’m not surprised you didn’t know, because he kept it tightly under wraps, but once Jacques shipped you off to finishing school…I ran away from home.” 

Weiss gasped. “You said that before,” she breathed. “But how? He would never let that happen!” 

Eisig shook his head. “You were the only reason I didn’t do it sooner. I took off barely a month after you were away at boarding school. Once I left, Father had too much pride to report it to the police. By the time his men tracked me down, I’d already found a job and a place to stay. They tried to force me to come back, and I fought them off. Told him to stay out of my business, and I would be glad to stay out of his. He wanted to avoid the scandal of disowning a fourteen-year-old, so he let it lie.

“Now, to get back to your question: while I was out wandering the streets just after you went away, I met a Valic Huntsman called Huginn.” He gestured at the room, indicating the man’s house. “I asked him how Huntsmen are viewed in the other Kingdoms, and compared that to how Atlas is run. I found our home…lacking…but Hunting sounded like a way to make something of myself. I commissioned a weapon, and hired a tutor to help me learn to use it. Huginn helped when he was around—he wields a polearm also—and soon enough I had enough confidence to start taking Combat tests to make up for the fact that I wasn’t attending Combat School. 

“I passed the entry exams for Hunting Academy last week, and then I heard that you were coming back home today. And so when I arrived at the manor, I informed Father of my intent to become a Huntsman, and to do so at Beacon. He was…not well-pleased, but seemed to accept it.”

“So…” Weiss whispered. “That’s why he reacted so strongly when I said that I wanted to train as a Huntress…”

“No doubt he assumed it was some plan of mine to ‘drive a wedge between us and the family’,” Eisig sighed. “He never could grasp that the schism between us is of his own making. I’m beginning to doubt he ever will.”

“You’ve always been at odds with Father,” Weiss said, looking over at him, her voice cracking in a way that he knew she would never allow to happen in public. “How do you do it, Sig? How do you keep going with all that pressure, and Father cracking down?”

Eisig smiled. He reached out and gently traced the scar over her eye. Ever since she’d gotten it, she’d turned—understandably—very sensory-defensive and people-shy. Ever since, only her siblings and Klein could comfortably touch her. 

“How do I keep going?” he mused. “I do it for you.” 

Weiss just stared, mouth a little open. 

“I do it for Winter, for the moments that she lets herself _be Winter_ instead of Atlesian Specialist Schnee. I even do it for Whitley, smug little prince that he can be, because he’s still my baby brother and it’s not his fault that he’s always been the favorite.

“I do it for the people I met on the streets of Atlas—for the disenfranchised that the Company exploits, and the laymen that they put out of business. I do it because it’s the right thing to do and there’s no one else in my position to do it. I do it because no matter who or what I’m facing, _I will not break_.” 

He heaved another sigh, letting his momentary anger fade. 

“I do it because Jacques Schnee was not the start of this family name, and I refuse to let him be the end of it. But at the end of the day?” Eisig tilted her chin up to meet his gaze directly. “I do it for you, sister. Because the world is a scary place, and the disgusting things that we do to our fellow mortals would be beyond our hollow, guilt-filled rationalization, even if there _weren’t_ a literally infinite number of very real monsters lurking just outside the walls. There may be no victory to be found in strength, but the only thing necessary for the evil that’s waiting out there to triumph…is for the good to do nothing.” 

He stood and offered Weiss a hand. “If you want to be a Huntress, you’d best do it with me at Beacon, far away from Jacques and the crowd I hear you’ve been running with.”

Weiss simply stared at him for several more long moments. Then, her jaw tightened, and Eisig saw in her eyes the defiant spark he’d been hoping for. She reached up, her slim fingers wrapped around his wrist, and he pulled her back to her feet. He led her back upstairs, collapsing Salzgletscher and placing it on his back as she sheathed Myrtenaster.

The next several weeks passed in much the same fashion, with the twins practicing or studying nonstop, and generally catching up on the years they had spent apart.

Weiss told Eisig about the combination combat and finishing school she had attended; how she excelled in her classes but struggled to make friends because it seemed everybody wanted to either suck up to the Schnee heiress herself, or use her to get to know her brother. It was clear that there was just as much she wasn’t saying, but Eisig didn’t push. They needed to get reacquainted, even though she plainly still trusted him.

And in return, Eisig told Weiss about living independently in Atlas. He glossed over the reason for his departure from the mansion, but spoke at length about how he had wandered the city for several days before stopping into a small Dust shop.

* * *

_“You’re quite undervaluing your stock, for the quality of product you have here,” he said conversationally to the elderly, dark-skinned man behind the register. The shop was small enough that this was almost certainly the owner of_ Watch My Dust _._

_“That’s the nature of doing business where I do,” the man replied after a moment. His tone was just a little condescending, but in a manner that suggested Eisig was missing something, rather than simply being dismissed for being young._

_“Oh?”_

_“Look, little Schnee, it’s no secret this is not a wealthy neighborhood. But everybody needs Dust, and it’s not always within folks’ means to buy at SDC prices. Sure, I’m not ‘maximizing profits’, but I’m making enough to propagate my business and take care of my family, while the people down here get what they need.” He sighed. “I suppose this is the end of that.”_

_“I don’t see why.” Eisig smiled, only a little nervously. “I’m…taking a sabbatical from my sheltered family life, you could say.”_

_“A ‘sabbatical’?” the man repeated. “And what does your father call it?”_

_Eisig scowled at the word ‘father’. “I’m sure he’d call it ‘teenage rebellion’. I’m also sure I don’t care. Are you hiring?”_

_The owner’s eyebrows rose. “You’re serious.”_

_“Entirely. It’s obvious you know who I am, so you realize I know Dust and business better than most, but I have no intention of trying to take over here or carry back any stories. I’m sure if_ he _ever noticed your shop, he’d do his utmost to push you out of business, but as far as I’m concerned, you’re doing good work here. I want to know about the_ personal _side of business—the side that I’ve never been able to see. What you described is why, my history tutors tell me, my ancestors went into the Dust-mining business to begin with. If I can’t bring the Company back to that, then at least I can learn the lesson they’d have wanted.”_

_“Chert Coal,” the shopkeeper introduced himself after a long pause. “And the first and only lesson is: Treat your customers like people.”_

_The bell over the door jingled at that moment, and a short, elderly Faunus man stepped inside. He spotted Eisig, and his eyes went very round. He looked ready to bolt before Chert called out to him._

_“Grane! I was expecting you yesterday; your family doing okay?”_

_“Y-yes,” Grane answered nervously, still darting glances at Eisig every few seconds, the fox ears on his head twitching madly. “Yes, everyone’s fine, I just needed another day to come up with enough for the order.”_

_“Bah, you should have come on time; I know you’re good for it. You could have just brought me the rest today.”_

_“I couldn’t do that to you, Chert,” Grane argued, finally seeming to forget about Eisig as he shook his head. “You’re the reason this neighborhood is still afloat, and I know you’ve gotta pay up protection too.” And then he froze, seeming to remember the Schnee in the room. “Is this… Are you getting shut down, Chert?” He still looked nervous, but ready to argue._

_“Nope,” Chert laughed—actually laughed, like he hadn’t just been outed as having to pay protection money out of his already meager profits. “Believe it or not, the young man just asked me for a job! Could hardly believe it; he almost looks like a Schnee, doesn’t he?”_

_“He’s not!?” Grane blurted, now staring avidly at Eisig._

_Realizing the cover story he was being offered, Eisig scratched his head. “Yeah, I get that a lot…but I’m nobody important. I’m just…well, hopefully a Dust shop worker.”_

_“Darn straight you are,” Chert said firmly. He handed Grane a case of Dust, accepted his payment, and waved cheerily as the man left. As soon as the door swung closed, he turned back to Eisig. “Do you understand what I mean about how to treat customers?”_

_Eisig nodded._

_“Good, then get to work, there’s an hour left before I close and you can at least do some dusting,” Chert laughed. “It’s normally my son’s job, he’ll be delighted not to have to do it today.”_

_Eisig just nodded again, taking the proffered duster, but his mind was whirring very fast about what he had learned—not about how to treat customers, but about how businesses were treated in this part of town._

_If a man like Chert had to pay protection money, how many other businesses were the same? How many people couldn’t pay? How could he stop it? Eisig could offer to pay, of course, but he had a feeling Chert would decline, and anyway that wouldn’t solve the problem. No, someone needed to bust the gang. But simply getting them arrested would just see them replaced and the problem transferred._

_He continued to ponder it over the following hour, when Chert closed up the shop, pressed a ten-lien card on him, and told him to come back tomorrow morning._

* * *

The weeks passed, and Eisig and Weiss caught a very long transoceanic flight to Vale, where they debarked only to immediately board a much smaller transport bound for the Academy on the hill overlooking the city. The assembled prospective students looked like a motley bunch, all milling around nervously until they were distracted by the news broadcast that was suddenly turned on.

_“…robbery was led by nefarious criminal Roman Torchwick, who continues to evade authorities. If you have any information on his whereabouts, please contact the Vale Police Department. Back to you, Lisa.”_

_“Thank you, Cyril. In other news, this Saturday's Faunus Civil Rights protest very nearly turned dark when members of the White Fang disrupted the ceremony. The once-peaceful organization has now turned to inciting violence and riots, but fortunately, this Saturday’s protesters were saved from harm by the intervention of members of the White Wing. Some of the White Wing members, identifiable by their armbands, locked arms to protect both the protesters and watching Humans and Faunus alike, while other members engaged the White Fang until police arrived. Several members of the White Fang were captured, and though several White Wing members were also arrested, the latter were released after questioning._

_“It is unknown whether the White Wing had any foreknowledge of the attack, or were simply already in the crowd. Police have released no official statement, but the Vale News Network received a video recorded by the alleged founder and leader of the White Wing, Nanook Eisbar.”_

The footage of the reporter was replaced by a recording of a thin, seated man visible only as a silhouette. No features were discernible except the small, round ears on top of his head. When he spoke, his voice was artificially distorted.

 _“Citizens of Atlas and of Remnant, I have addressed you before, when you first learned of the White Wing and wondered who we were. My answer has not changed: We are those who would make a difference. We are those who wish to rise above the hatred and violence that has plagued our history. Though I conceal my own identity for security, I urge all of my friends and supporters—both Human and Faunus—to show their devotion to this ideal openly. Many, even most, have done so.”_

The camera changed to footage of the White Wing members protecting the protesters, both Faunus and Humans with arms linked to hold back the crowd and offer them cover from the White Fang. 

_“We are not a gang or an organization; we are a_ movement _. The oppression of Faunus is a blight on Humanity’s history, but the retaliatory efforts of the White Fang are equally despicable, and it is the duty of Faunus everywhere to oppose them just as Humans everywhere must stand up for their Faunus brethren when oppression looms._

 _“The White Wing stands for change, for betterment, for ascension. And we do not stand alone, so say our members in Atlas, in Mistral, in Vacuo, and in Vale. If you would stand with us, find a member today. Spread the word. Only together can we make a difference, my friends. I hope to see you there, in the better world I_ know _we can build.”_

As the recording ended and the news broadcast restarted, the people who had fallen silent to listen began to babble even louder than before, all talking over each other about the latest gossip and rumors.

“The Ice Bear, huh? And Roman Torchwick in the city?”

“My buddy’s got a pet theory that those two? Are actually the same person.”

“No way, man! Torchwick’s no Faunus; he hates the Faunus.”

“What better cover could there be? Nobody would suspect him!”

“I don’t buy it. The only one less likely to be the Ice Bear would be a Schnee.”

“Ha! What if it’s what’s-his-name? The heiress’ twin brother? Nobody’s seen him in years, and everybody says the Ice Bear has white hair!”

Eisig rolled his eyes at Weiss, who was glaring at the last speaker. “Well, people here are certainly outspoken; I’ll say Huginn had a point about that.”

“Hmph. This is ridiculous,” Weiss scoffed. “I can’t believe some people’s imaginations.”

Eisig just laughed. “You’d think they’d notice you standing right here, even if they somehow didn’t recognize me. Not that I understand that either—we’re pretty obviously siblings. But then, you’d also think they’d remember that I’m not a Faunus.”

“How can you be so blasé?” she demanded, and he shrugged.

“I don’t really care what the gossipmongers say. No doubt they’ll come up with something even more outrageous once our names are announced at the Academy and the public realizes where we’ve gone. It’s not like being a Faunus would be a bad thing.”

“I suppose not…” Weiss murmured.

Eisig frowned slightly at that, but they were distracted by the appearance of a recording of a blonde woman with ringlets, and by the sound of someone on the Bullhead being violently airsick.

Eisig snorted. “Welcome to Vale.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **A/N: Hi all! This is a story I’ve been teasing for a while (and pondering for even longer—seriously, if you’re a $10+ Patron with access to my Scraps pages, you’ll notice my snippets and notes for this story are around fifty pages long; dating back to 12/07/2015). We started very much _in medias res_ here, so there are definitely things that won’t make sense right away. Hopefully there’s enough to keep you all interested.**
> 
> **Admittedly, Volume 4 caused me to have to mix some things up at the last second, but I’m rolling with the punches and I think things are turning out okay.**
> 
> **If you’d like to chat with me, you can pop into my Discord server at discord dot gg slash ABfg74C**
> 
> * * *
> 
> **Special thanks to my Patrons Gade Ricard and Ran!**


	2. Alterations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Written for Monty's Birthday.**
> 
> **If you'd like to chat, please pop into my Discord server at discord dot gg slash ABfg74C**
> 
> **If you’d like to become a patron, that can be found at goo dot gl slash poJdF3**

_[Six months ago]_

Roman Torchwick flicked his lighter open and puffed lazily at his cigar. His diminutive partner, Neo, wrinkled her nose, but didn’t otherwise react beyond spooning herself some more ice cream straight from the tub. They sat side-by-side at a table in Junior Xiong’s nightclub, currently closed as it was only about four in the afternoon.

Junior himself sat across from Roman, scowling at everything and taking up that entire side of the table by himself as he slouched down. Junior’s two bouncers, the Malachites, sat to Roman’s right, looking bored.

“What do ya say, Junior, old pal? It’s just a little robbery; let me borrow some of your boys. I’ll rent ‘em for a fair price and everything!”

“I’ve told you, I don’t like it,” Junior ground out. “Outright robbery isn’t our thing.”

“Junior, Junior, Junior…” Roman shook his head sadly. “You have so much manpower and you’re doing nothing with it! Bookkeeping doesn’t require this much dumb muscle. Let me put them to work! It’s just knocking over some Dust stores; nothing near your usual work, so it can’t very well hurt your operations.”

Junior merely glared. “Don’t think I don’t know who you’re stealing Dust _for_ , Roman. I don’t want my boys mixed up with the likes of her.”

“Look, I get it,” Roman said soothingly. “But the fact is, she’s coming in hard. She’s already got the White Fang all but licking her boots, and–” he glanced around, lowering his voice. “–and word is she’s not even the worst of them.”

“All the more reason,” Junior said mulishly. “I’ve got nothing she could want. It’s in my best interests to lay low and ride this out.”

“How are you planning to ‘ride it out’ when the city’s in flames, Junior?” Roman demanded, slamming a hand onto the table. Miltia’s claws clicked into place, but Junior waved her off immediately.

“Look, I’ll deal with it when I have to, Roman. I appreciate that you’re trying to look out for me, but I’d rather stay under their radar.”

Sighing in aggravation, Roman ashed his cigar and blew smoke at the ceiling. “It’s not an option, Junior,” he said sadly. “She was the one who told me to borrow manpower until the Fang sends more lackeys. I need a few good hauls to keep proving that I’m worth more alive than dead. So, I’m asking.” He grimaced, the next word feeling like shards of glass in his throat. “Please.”

Junior buried his face in his hands. “Could this day get worse?”

As if in answer to his question, a door opened and they both heard bootheels strolling toward the table.

“Well, ain’ this cozy?”

Both the Malachites and Neo leapt to their feet and readied their weapons, while Roman and Junior simply tightened their grips on their own.

“Don’ suppose ya’ve got another stogie ta spare?”

The newcomer passed one of the club’s lighted columns, and they got a good look at him. He was tall and rail-thin, with a wicked scar visible behind the patch over his right eye. His left arm was missing below the elbow, the sleeve of his trench coat cuffed up so it wouldn’t flap, and dark-furred canine ears poked up from under the plain, serviceable black fedora on the newcomer’s head. A slender katana rested across his back, and the hilt of a knife poked out of his boot.

Roman reached over without looking and pulled Neo back into her seat, causing the Malachites to falter as well. He didn’t need to see the insignia of a black horse’s head with a ring in its mouth on the funereal suit to identify this man. Hank Negron, a former capo of the White Fang—though Roman had heard through the grapevine from his _‘employer’_ that the man had betrayed the terrorist cell, seeking more autonomy. 

“Last I heard, you were setting up shop somewhere else,” Roman said, holding out a cigar as requested and hoping his voice sounded as light as intended. “What brings you to our humble city of Vale?”

_Translation: What are you doing on our turf?_

“Yer righ’,” the man drawled, dragging a stool over to the open side of the table and dropping heavily into it. He took the cigar, clamped it in his teeth, and snapped his fingers. A flicker of green flame licked around his outstretched thumb, which he used to light the cigar. “I don’ wanna fuckin’ be here, an’ come nex’ month I’ll be in Atlas with th’ Crew, hopefully fer fuckin’ good. Fer now, though, I’m takin’ care o’ some business. Doin’ a favor. Came ta say hello as a gesture o’ good faith, as it were.”

“What sort of ‘business’?” Junior asked dubiously. In response, the ebony-skinned wolf Faunus reached into his coat, causing all of them to tense before he pulled out…a Scroll.

“Sorry,” he said, not sounding remotely sorry. “Th’ boss wanted ta chat wit’ both o’ ya. Make sure there ain’ gonna be any…misunderstandings, like.”

“You’re not ‘the boss’?” Junior demanded, looking furious at the apparent snub of meeting with an underling. “Whose orders are you taking, then?”

Negron growled low in his throat, a particularly feral sound. “Don’ take nobody’s fuckin’ _orders_ no more!” he snapped, then took a breath and visible controlled himself. “I work fer th’ boss because I fuckin’ _want_ to, got it? I do th’ job, and I get paid. Simple ‘s that.”

Roman glanced at Neo, eyebrows raised. It sounded like their previous tip was correct, and Negron had left the Fang because he was sick of being bossed around. However…it seemed he was now working for someone else? And willingly, at that? Information his ‘employer’ would certainly like to know. Well, he wasn’t going to go out of his way to tell her, that was for sure. Neo grinned back at him, pixielike, and he knew they were in agreement. 

“I would have thought you’d rather be the boss yourself,” Roman said cautiously.

Negron scoffed. “Naw, not anymore. Got ‘nuff o’ that with th’ Fang. Buncha fuckin’ sycophants an’ psychopaths. Eh, Torchy?” 

Roman twitched at the nickname, but nodded. He supposed even with his ‘employer’ absent, he needed to keep up his reputation as an alleged Faunus-hater. “Nothing but degenerate _animals_ ,” he agreed airily. “Why do you think I prefer to work with the Axe Gang?”

“I c’n understan’ fine wantin’ ta work with people who think th’ same as you,” Negron smirked. He propped the Scroll up on a stand, then turned it away from himself to face the table. “Xiong, go an’ stand next ta Torchy, that’s a good lad.” He shooed the Malachites away without so much as looking at them.

Junior looked apoplectic at being ordered around in his own club, but curiosity got the better of him and he stomped around to sit nearer to Roman, where the Scroll would face both of them.

Negron held his arm in front of the Scroll, which scanned the barcode tattooed on his remaining wrist—a relic of the past, Roman recalled, when Faunus labor was even more brutal than on Mantle today. With a small _beep_ the Scroll came to life, the small light near the facing camera glowing suddenly red to indicate a live call. There was no picture coming through from the caller, but before Roman could ask about it, a voice issued from the device.

“Thank you, Hank.” The voice sounded male, but was artificially distorted to the point that little else could be identified. Unlike Negron, his diction was flawless. “Greetings, Junior. Roman. Neo.”

Roman’s eyes narrowed. Neo preferred to stay in the background most of the time. Yet, whoever this was knew her, at least by description and her chosen underworld handle.

“No need to be so suspicious, Roman,” the Scroll said. “I certainly hope we can all be friends here.”

“You seem to have us at a disadvantage, _‘friend’_ ,” Roman pointed out as Negron leaned back in his chair, crossing his whole arm under the shortened one.

The voice on the scroll chuckled. With the voice distortion added, the effect was rather creepy. “Fair enough. As I’m sure Hank told you, this is supposed to be a meeting of good faith. He’s been taking care of some things in Vale for me while I have been unavoidably busy. My name is Nanook Eisbar.”

Roman folded his arms. “Pull the other one, it’s got bells.”

There was that creepy chuckle again. “I’ll grant you, it’s a little hard to prove without a picture. It does put a damper on the business I’d have liked to do today, though.” He hummed. “How about this, Roman; I’ll come meet you later this month when I come to see Hank off. As I hope has been made clear, I have business in Vale, and I don’t see any reason it can’t be…mutually lucrative. We’re all businessmen here.”

Neo leaned forward, spoon in her mouth.

“And businesswomen,” Eisbar added, and Neo subsided, smiling eerily. “I don’t want to impose on Mr Xiong, however. Let me know where to meet you.”

Roman scowled, then gave an address to one of his throwaway boltholes—there was a desk there he could use as a pseudo-‘office’, without compromising anything. He already had a meeting there next week with some brat in way over his head, he could keep the place occupied for another month. Despite his words, he didn’t really doubt that he was talking to the Ice Bear. Regrettably, he supposed, he’d probably have to tell his ‘employer’ about this after all.

“Delighted,” the Scroll said. “Neo, I presume I will be meeting you along with Roman?”

The spoon in the small woman’s mouth swiveled from one side to the other.

“I know a delightful creamery in Vale; I’ll pick you up something. Likewise, Junior, I shall have to visit your establishment sometime as a guest, to repay you for Hank’s imposition today. I do look forward to doing business.”

Junior grunted.

“Well then, I suppose that’s all for today, gentlemen,” Eisbar said. “Unless you have some conditions for our meetings?”

“Just don’t start shit,” Junior huffed. “The club gets rowdy enough, and if you really are the Ice Bear…I don’t need any bad publicity.”

“That goes without saying, my good man,” Eisbar purred through the scroll. “Rest assured, I will be a most conscientious guest. You’ll hardly even know I was there. And you, Roman?”

Roman waved a hand dismissively. “Just don’t bring a ton of guards and draw attention.”

“I think we’re going to get along just fine, Roman. Ta.” 

The red light flickered out, and the Scroll seemed to lock itself automatically. Negron got to his feet, collecting the device and stubbing out the remains of his cigar in the ashtray. “Tha’s all, then. Look forward ta’ never seein’ ya again.” 

He strode out without another word.

* * *

_[Present day]_

Eisig followed his sister out of the airship, picking up his suitcase and tapping a foot as she collected her bags onto a trolley. “I really need to teach you the virtue of packing light.”

Weiss scowled. “I came straight home from another boarding school, and _someone_ insisted we leave straight away,” she pointed out.

“And you weren’t nearly this snippy about it at the time,” Eisig shot back, rolling his eyes. “Come on, I expect there’ll be some kind of opening ceremony.

He tossed his suitcase on top of hers and wheeled the cart away. Weiss sniffed, and hurried to walk ahead of him; marching along imperiously and leaving him to follow. He smirked where she couldn’t see—three years and his sister was as haughty as ever. He probably shouldn’t find it as endearing as he did.

“Are you going to be okay for supplies for Initiation?” he asked, drawing her attention back to him as he angled the cart across the landing square.

She sniffed. “I expect so. We didn’t use too much Dust while training. Do you have enough?”

“I’ll manage until we find a local supplier. We’ll have to see if Jacques is willing to pay for it.”

Weiss paused for just an instant, almost stumbling. “He will, won’t he?” she asked, not quite hesitantly. “I mean,” she added quickly, “I…rely on Dust quite a lot…”

“I know,” Eisig answered, angling the cart around a lost-looking student in a red and black dress. “And I think he will, at least for you. Can’t have his heiress running out of Dust like some _pauper_ , you know. Look out, by the way.”

“Look out for whAAAH!” Weiss shrieked as she tripped over the girl he had avoided.

The girl, fortunately or not, had turned around at Eisig’s warning, so Weiss crashed into her face-first. The girl’s hands instinctively caught Weiss’ waist as the two of them fell to the ground, Weiss’ hands landing either side of the girl’s head. They seemed to freeze like that, faces an inch apart, the girl’s bright silver eyes staring into Weiss’ crystal blue, blushes growing in both their cheeks.

Thirty seconds passed.

“So, do you want me to let you two get acquainted…?” Eisig asked finally.

His voice seemed to snap Weiss out of her daze, and she shot back to her feet. Her blush was incandescent and she turned furiously away, crossing her arms firmly and refusing to meet anyone’s gaze.

Rolling his eyes again, Eisig extended a hand to the girl, who took it hesitantly. “Sorry about my sister,” he said, hauling her back to her feet. “Apparently she’s forgotten her manners. Her name is Weiss, and I’m Eisig.”

Weiss whirled back around, mouth opening, but the girl found her voice at that moment. “I’m Ruby Rose. Nice to meet you?” She ended it like a question, looking nervously between them.

“It’s our pleasure, Miss Rose. Your weapon isn’t scuffed, is it?” Eisig persisted, since Weiss still didn’t look calm enough to hold a civil conversation.

Ruby’s eyes lit up. “No way! I built Crescent Rose way sturdier than that!” She whipped the metal weapon off her back, and in the same motion it unfurled into a scythe bigger than her. She cuddled it like a favored pet.

Eisig blinked. “Nice to see another polearm user, but why a scythe? Seems inefficient to have the cutting edge facing you. Not to mention dangerous.”

Ruby stuck out her tongue. “Because scythes are awesome, and my uncle uses one, so there!”

He held up his hands, chuckling. “No offense meant. Did you actually do the forging yourself? We only commissioned ours.”

“Mhm!” Ruby folded her scythe away and stowed it once more, rocking slightly on her feet. “I mean, I had some help from my Uncle and from the forgemaster at Signal, and it took _weeks_ to get the pieces to come out right, but the design and everything was all mine and I put it all together myself!”

“That’s…very impressive,” Weiss managed. Ruby’s smile was dazzling, and to Eisig’s intense amusement, some of the retreating color came right back into Weiss’ cheeks.

“So, shall we get on to the auditorium?” he asked pointedly. Both girls jumped again.

“Y-yes!” Weiss said hastily, marching off. Ruby trotted along behind her.

Eisig watched them go for a few seconds before he called out, “The auditorium is this way.”

Weiss froze, then whipped around and stalked back past him in the right direction. “I knew that!”

Snickering, Eisig followed.

* * *

Ruby left them at the door, citing a need to find her own sister, and Eisig and Weiss were left milling with the rest of the students.

“What was that girl doing here?” Weiss wondered, staring after Ruby’s retreating bob. “She seemed too young for Beacon.”

“There was some to-do about a student being admitted early,” Eisig offered. “It was on the school’s forum,” he added, when Weiss raised an eyebrow. “Maybe that’s her.”

“I suppose… When did you find that out, though?”

He rolled his eyes. “During your third rewatch of the Mistral Regionals.” 

Further conversation was stymied by the ringleted blonde woman from the recording on the airship calling them to order, and introducing Headmaster Ozpin. 

Eisig frowned, listening to the Headmaster’s disinterested-sounding speech. That…was not the approach he’d expected. Inspirational, perhaps, but definitely not in the traditional sense. He glanced around, but no one else appeared to be taking the man seriously. Most seemed confused, but not contemplative. Pity. 

“That was a dreadful speech,” Weiss said, folding her arms.

“I disagree,” Eisig said. “It wasn’t the bombastic speech I was expecting, but he’s right; almost nobody in this room has any real future-facing goals.”

“You sound like Winter,” Weiss sniffed. 

Eisig grinned. “Our dear older sister has the right of it, you know.” He imitated Winter’s voice, intentionally badly. “‘It’s never too early to start planning your future!’”

“Ughhh,” Weiss groaned. “I don’t need to hear that from you. I’m going to become a Huntress and take over the Company. It’s as simple as that.”

Eisig hummed in reply. “Simple. Right.”

* * *

Having prepared for bed—meaning removed his vest and overshirt, and changed into flannel pants—Eisig let his eyes drag around the room, ignoring the idiots posturing with their shirts off. (What was the point? It was a Hunting Academy; _everyone_ was in good shape.)

Instead, he mentally compared the students he saw to those he knew of. He recognized Winchester, of course, and Escutcheon, and a few others whose faces he vaguely remembered from High Society a few years ago—Jacques’ galas often drew the idle rich from all four Kingdoms. Over there was Mistral’s sweetheart, Pyrrha Nikos. Further away, there was a cute bob cut that faded to red at the tips, beside a wild blonde mane. In the other direction was a bouncy ginger next to a boy whose black hair had a pink strip in it.

Curious, he checked how many Faunus he could see. The ratio seemed decidedly higher than the statistics he’d seen in Atlas or even Mistral—Vale and Vacuo were far and away the more liberal Kingdoms. There were also, now he looked at it, a decent number of White Wing armbands visible, which brought a smile to his face.

His gaze paused on a head of black hair tied back with a curiously-placed bow, sitting against the far wall with a book and a candle, and a small smile curved his lips. He paused, noticing the blonde and redhead he’d seen earlier approaching her, and made his way over as well, with Weiss following curiously.

“Hello~!” 

Well, blondie was certainly a loud one, Eisig thought, coming up behind the group.

“Well, I'm Yang Xiao Long, Ruby's older sister! I like your bow!”

“…Thanks.” 

Blake’s tone was growing annoyed as she continued to be unable to read. Eisig chortled.

Blake looked up at the sound, and nearly dropped the book. She opened her mouth before her eyes darted to his hair and she froze. Her eyes narrowed, and her nostrils flared, before her expression blanked and became guarded.

Ignoring this, Eisig addressed the blonde. “Miss Xiao Long, right? You should know better than to interrupt a reader intent on a story.” He smiled to take the bite from the comment.

Weiss, clearly unsure how to deal with the situation, tapped her foot and added, “Besides, some of us are trying to sleep!”

Eisig rolled his eyes. “Can you not talk to anyone without telling them what to do?” he hissed at Weiss, who scowled and blushed.

“‘Miss Xiao Long’?” Yang repeated. “What are you, a teacher?”

Eisig raised his hands placatingly. “Just being polite.”

Meanwhile, Ruby addressed Blake. “What’s your book about?” 

She glanced at Ruby before darting her gaze back to Eisig. “Well… i-it’s about a man with two souls, each fighting for control over his body.”

“ _‘The King and the Horse’_?” Eisig guessed by the size of the tome. Blake nodded shortly.

“I liked it quite a bit, but I thought it really should have ended when– Well, I won’t spoil. Eisig Schnee,” he introduced himself. “And Miss Rose has already met my sister Weiss.”

“Didn’t you disappear without a trace three years ago?” Blake asked, eyes narrowed to slits once more.

Eisig laughed. “That makes it sound like I was killed. I did withdraw from the public eye when I was about fourteen, yes, but I’ve never left Atlas.” Technically a lie, though from a certain point of view, this was the first time _Eisig Schnee_ had left his home country… “The report of my death is an exaggeration.”

Apparently despite herself, Blake’s mouth twitched at the literary reference.

“Well. Not that it wasn’t a pleasure,” she said, eyes moving away from Eisig at last to focus on Ruby. “But there’s only a few minutes until lights out and I’d like to finish this chapter. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Ah, okay! Goodnight!” Ruby whisper-shouted, waving despite the very short distance between them. A bit of a blush started to cross Weiss’ nose again, and Yang raised her eyebrows.

“Sleep well,” Eisig said, catching Weiss’ hand to pull her away and ignoring her flinch at the sudden contact. He tugged her away from the sisters and back to their bedrolls. Once they were alone again, he whispered, “We’ve got to teach you to be subtle when staring, too.”

Weiss snatched her hand back. “Wha- I am so subtle.”

Eisig raised an eyebrow as he pulled out his Scrolls. “Wei, you haven’t been able to stop staring at Miss Rose for longer than a minute since you bumped into her this afternoon.” Her eyes kept drifting over his shoulder. “You’re watching her right now.”

“No I’m not!” she squeaked, blushing harder as she tried and failed to meet his gaze. She looked down instead. “Why do you have three Scrolls, anyway?”

“White one’s personal, black one’s for work,” he replied. “The third one I’m tinkering with, hence why the camera’s bust. And don’t change the subject.” Eisig smirked. “Given how many times you forced me to sit through the Mistral Regionals, I would have expected you to be chatting up Miss Nikos,” he said slyly, absently opening the white and one of the black Scrolls, setting an alarm on the former while pulling up an email on the latter.

Weiss’ face was now the color of Ruby’s hood. “I am not _chatting up_ anyone!” She took a deep breath and seemed to finally get ahold of herself. “I intend to speak with Pyrrha tomorrow morning before Initiation, to ascertain whether she would be interested in a mutually-beneficial arrangement.”

“Don’t tell me, your brains for her brawn?” he guessed.

Weiss harrumphed. “We’ll see who’s laughing when Pyrrha and I form the strongest team in this school.”

“Why, my dearest sister, are you implying that you do not wish to be on the same team as me?” Eisig teased, working on a reply to the email he’d received.

“…”

Uncharacteristicially, Weiss hesitated, and he paused, glancing up at her. 

“I want to be a team leader, Sig.”

Eisig frowned a little. “So?”

Weiss sighed. “ _So_ , I don’t think I would be selected over you. You beat me in every spar these past few weeks, and,” She gestured at the black Scroll he was typing on. “You’re already running a business for yourself.”

“Not _every_ spar,” Eisig demurred. “You’re the better Dust-user. And I’m sure your finishing school put an emphasis on leadership.”

“I think Father hired a private tutor,” she said softly, and he had to pause again as his hands involuntarily fisted.

After a moment, he exhaled sharply and forced himself to relax. “Whether either of us are team leader, whether we’re on the same team or not…” he met her identical blue eyes. “I’m glad you’re here with me, Wei.”

He returned his attention to the email on the black Scroll on his right knee, but a moment later, he felt his sister’s hand settle lightly over his left. She didn’t say anything more, but with her willingly initiating contact… He knew they were in agreement.

* * *

“Are you seriously gonna wear a dress shirt and vest into a combat exercise?” Yang asked, shutting her locker and looking him up and down.

Eisig smiled. “Treated clothes are tougher than they look. More comfortable, too.” He adjusted Salzgletscher at his hip, and patted down his pockets to make sure his Scrolls were secure.

Ruby looked down at her own outfit. “I always wondered how this outfit held up so well. And my hood…” she ran her fingers along the trailing cloak. 

“Dust Weaving is a complex and expensive technique, requiring hours of labor by a talented artisan,” Weiss spoke up, reciting something she’d probably read in a textbook. “Most Hunters’ combat clothing is instead made with a derivative technique, called _Treating_. The fabrics—typically aramides shot through with steel threads—are pressed into a specially-processed Dust blend. The resulting cloth does not allow for direct control of Nature’s Wrath; instead, the fabric itself is altered, resulting in superior toughness while maintaining the flexibility and softness of a thicker natural fabric. Happily, the material can be procured in virtually any cut or color, since the Treating process is the final step, so Hunters are free to express their personal styles.”

Eisig raised an eyebrow. “Did you take a class on textiles at that finishing school?”

Weiss flushed slightly, and stalked off to try to corner Pyrrha. Her information was entirely correct, of course. While not as cool or as comfortable as cotton, Treated fabric was far more useful. A simple cotton shirt wasn’t much use against a Grimm’s claw or fang. While not as exorbitant as classically Woven clothes, Treated combat wear was nevertheless expensive; most trainee Hunters would have only one full set, that they would care for reverently.

The Schnee siblings, naturally, each had three sets. Unhappy though Jacques might be, it ‘simply wouldn’t do’ for a Schnee to be equipped with anything less than the best.

“Yeesh,” Yang said, staring after her. “What an ice queen.”

Eisig gave her a level look. “That ‘ice queen’ happens to be my twin sister,” he reminded her quietly.

Yang blushed, her eyes darting to Ruby for a second. “I…sorry.” 

Eisig held her gaze for a moment longer, then nodded. “Shall we?” he said, offering peace by way of moving the subject along.

Weiss, meanwhile, was all but rubbing her hands together in glee and blatantly ignoring how awkward Pyrrha was looking. “I was…planning on letting the chips fall where they may,” the redhead said politely. “So, we’ll see?”

“Come on, you’ve fangirled enough,” Eisig said, drawing up behind Weiss and chivvying her outside over her protests, though without actually touching her.

Unheard by anyone else, Pyrrha sighed before following.

* * *

As the platform launched him into the air, Eisig mused on Professor Ozpin’s instructions. _‘The first person you make eye contact with after landing…’_ It seemed Huginn was right; Ozpin really was a bit of a troll.

Projecting an angled glyph to use as a platform, Eisig skidded down it, jumping to bleed off momentum before repeating twice more. Having reached the treeline, he kicked off the final glyph and caught hold of a branch, which bent under his weight until it was almost touching the ground. Letting go, he dropped the remaining few feet and landed lightly, while the branch whipped back up toward where it had come from.

His thumb flicked Salzgletscher a few inches free of its scabbard before clicking it back into place, eyes darting around his landing zone. No sign of the Grimm, but before he could take more than a few steps, he felt an Aura drawing near and paused. He shifted his gaze to the ground and watched from his periphery, wondering even as he did so whether Ozpin would consider the partnership to count if he refused to meet the eyes of whoever had been launched so close to him…

A pair of brown, Mistrali combat boots and bronze greaves came into view, and he looked up to meet a pair of sharp green eyes.

“Hello, Miss Nikos.”

“Ah, hello again,” she smiled back, though it appeared a little wooden. “I suppose this makes us partners?”

“Mm,” Eisig hummed an affirmative. “I hope my sister isn’t too disappointed.” He shook his head. “Sorry about her, by the way. She was a bit overly excited this morning. I think she still can’t quite believe we’re here instead of back in Atlas.”

“Oh, it was nothing,” Pyrrha waved off his apology easily, though she still looked a little stiff. “Shall we proceed?”

“Certainly.” Eisig glanced up at the sun, visible ahead of him, and turned to place it on his right. “This should be about North, this time of year, I think. Although, I haven’t had time yet to adjust to this latitude.”

“Closer to this direction, I think,” Pyrrha offered gently, taking the lead with confident steps. Her course was different from his proposed one by perhaps four degrees, but it reminded him of something he’d intended to ask.

Although, given how uncomfortable she seemed, he might not get much of an answer. “I suppose we ought to get to know each other a little. I hope we can be friends.” Somehow this was much harder when talking to someone who actually knew him as Eisig.

“…” Pyrrha glanced over her shoulder, and her smile seemed a little more genuine. “I agree. Perhaps we could start again?”

“Fair enough. Good morning. I am called Eisig Schnee,” he introduced himself in the old Mantlese style. “This is Salzgletscher; it’s a saber modeled off a rural Mistrali katana, though the hilt can extend to make it a polearm.” He demonstrated, pivoting the resulting naginata around his shoulder before collapsing the haft again. “I use it in conjunction with Dust and my Semblance, which is rather easy to guess.”

“Hello again,” Pyrrha said once more. “My name is Pyrrha Nikos. My weapons are Miló and Akoúo̱,” she gestured at the sword and the shield respectively. “Miló can take the shape of a javelin or a rifle, but I’m most comfortable with it in the form of a xiphos.”

“You have a good variety in your weapon choice, plus the defense offered by a buckler, which is something I guess I lack,” Eisig offered. “I prefer to dodge rather than block, myself. And, well, I’ve never seen you disarmed in a fight, but I’m quite good hand-to-hand. I’d be most interested to spar you that way.”

“If that’s so, I may take you up on it, Eisig,” she said over her shoulder, shifting a branch aside. “Unarmed combat is certainly something that I’m hoping to improve on, here at Beacon.”

“‘Eis’ is fine, if you like,” he said, ducking the branch as she let it go. “And speaking of easy-to-guess Semblances, yours certainly isn’t.”

She actually paused for a moment, before starting to walk again. “Is that so? What makes you think I’ve even unlocked my Semblance yet?”

“Besides your reaction just now?” Eisig saw a blush creep up her neck, and shook his head. “I only had a hunch, to be honest. I don’t mean to denigrate your skills by any means, but your reputation makes me think there’s something that everyone’s missing.”

“It sounds like you studied my recordings rather closely,” she said, still not looking back at him.

“Weiss did,” he corrected. “It was a long transit from Atlas and I was stuck in the seat next to her through four renditions of every tourney. Watching you fight is a joy, though, I will admit.” And it didn’t hurt that she was attractive, he could be honest. 

They continued in silence for a few minutes, until he saw Pyrrha’s shoulders slump. She drew a breath, but he cut in swiftly, laying a hand on her shoulder. 

“Don’t feel obligated to answer me. Everyone’s entitled to their secrets; I just have a bad habit of prying.” He should probably apologize explicitly, but couldn’t force the words out of his throat. He had apologized for his sister today and the previous day, but rarely managed to do so for himself.

She looked back at him again, finally, searching his face for something. Whatever she found, some of the tension bled out of her posture. “I’m sorry,” she said, which made his stomach twist—she could say it so easily! “I’m not quite ready to share my secrets, Eis.”

He forced a smile, since she was in the right, and while he could tell she saw something false about it, she let the matter drop as they came out of the trees and saw their destination.

* * *

“Fillet Sable, Bernice Argent, Leopold Tenné, Giuliette Escutcheon,” Ozpin announced. “The four of you retrieved the white bishop pieces. From this day forward, you will work together as Team SBLE,” He pronounced it ‘Sable’. “Led by Fillet Sable.”

“It’s ‘Fi’, dammit…” Eisig heard the new leader grumble under her breath.

“Eisig Schnee, Pyrrha Nikos, Nora Valkyrie, Lie Ren. The four of you retrieved the white rook pieces. From this day forward, you will work together as Team SPRN,” pronounced ‘Spring’. “Led by Eisig Schnee.”

Like he didn’t have enough to do already. Eisig showed his teeth as the crowd clapped. Weiss watched him with some concern, probably because of his ‘Schnee smile’, but no one else seemed to notice anything odd.

Ozpin then cleared his throat, and proceeded to finish fulfilling Weiss’ fears the previous night, naming her partner—the same red-hooded girl Weiss had knocked down the previous day—as the leader of their team instead. Weiss’ own smile froze solid, and Eisig sighed, already picturing his sister’s likely reaction. If she wasn’t over it by the end of the week, he was probably going to have to say something.

* * *

The first week passed in a blur of classes. Weiss reacted pretty much as he’d predicted, but between Professors Ozpin and Port she seemed to settle back down after just the first day, which was a load off his mind. He had an inkling this would be only the beginning of his sister’s troubles with her team, given how much they all contrasted each other, but he was willing to take the peace for the time being.

Eisig’s own team, thankfully, included much less drama. He and Pyrrha, at least, had reached an agreement during Initiation and were able to be casual with each other, which she seemed to greatly appreciate. Their other teammates were a pair of childhood friends, and both were exceedingly easy to get along with—Nora was boisterous and gregarious in a way that was hard to dislike, while Ren was laid-back and seemed content to go with his noisy friend’s flow. The four of them got along relatively well, and adjusted to living in the same space fairly easily. 

None of his team nor his sister’s quite seemed to know what to make of Eisig’s tendency to refer to them by surname, but they all seemed to agree it was too early in the year to question each others’ habits yet.

They got to train together as a group Tuesday and Thursday after class, and as leader, Eisig began working on attack combinations and formations in his Wednesday afternoon Leader’s course. As he shared this with Ruby, he got further confirmation that the shorter girl was optimistic about getting along with her ‘new BFF’.

Picturing his sister’s reaction to that claim, Eisig had to smirk.

On Friday their classes got out early, so he advised his team to take the afternoon to relax while he went into Vale to handle some business. On his way to the docks, though, he was intercepted by Ruby.

“Eis!”

He turned, blinking as a storm of rose petals resolved into his fellow team leader. “Yes?” he said politely.

“Where are you going? We need to do some team bonding!”

“We’re on different teams, Miss Rose,” he reminded her, grinning.

Ruby, used to his register by now, simply bounced on her heels. “Sister-team bonding!”

“Your sister is _on_ your team,” he chuckled. 

“Yeees…” she drew the word out. “But _your_ sister is also on my team! So we all totally need to hang out tonight!”

Eisig shrugged. “I’ll be happy to text my team, but I have work to do. I’m running a business down in Vale, you know.” He waggled his work Scroll.

“Aww…” Her shoulders slumped and he immediately felt like a heel. “Yang made us all a reservation at this really cool place downtown. She said it’s a club, which is normally _super_ not my thing, especially with the kind of places she usually goes, but I looked up this place and it doesn’t seem that wild and they have a restaurant too and it’s supposed to be really really good! And I know Pyrrha, Ren, and Nora wanted to go dancing–”

“Excuse me,” he interrupted. “ _Ren_ wanted to go dancing?”

Ruby paused to consider that. “…Well, Nora volunteered him and he didn’t say no. But anyway I bet he’s a really good dancer too, like Nora says! And Weiss said she’d go to _‘supervise’ us_ which I’m pretty sure means she’s interested too but doesn’t want to admit it sounds fun.”

“That’s accurate.”

“ _And_ even Blake agreed because this place is supposedly really Faunus-friendly and she’s really into equal rights! I just really wanted the eight of us to hang out…” She looked up at him with her wide silver eyes.

Eisig scratched his chin. “It sounds like you’ve convinced everyone. I’ll see if I can meet you guys there. What’s this place called?”

“Oh! It’s called Bai Yi, I think? It’s super trendy so hopefully we can get in before it’s too late to use our reservation. You have to promise to come though—I know it would make Weiss really happy!”

He sighed and interrupted her hyperactive rambling yet again. “…I’ll see what I can do.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **This was supposed to be _Unto The Breach_ , but it’s Monty’s birthday so I just had to do something RWBY-related. Next two updates in a row will be UTB. In the last six months I lost my job, found another job, went on a business trip, quit that job, and finally found a new job! In short, I think I’ve changed a lot as a person in the last half a year, and I’m confident that I can start updating again on the regular (meaning NOT waiting six months between chapters.**
> 
> **Hank Negron is based on a character from another work. There are a lot of hints as to who, but honestly I can never tell when I’m being too subtle and when I’m being too obvious. Technically an OC, but I need characters to fill out the White Wing’s ranks. (Does anyone even get mad about OCs these days?)**   
>  **I have seen a “Team SBLE” mentioned in another story as background characters, but I’m pretty sure they all immediately died. Other than borrowing the convenient team designation, I invented these characters from whole cloth.**
> 
> * * *
> 
> **Special thanks to my Patrons Gade, Ran, and Cody.**


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